


The Maze 100

by orphan_account



Category: The 100, The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Bellarke, Crossover, Epic Books, James Dashner, The 100 - Freeform, The Maze Runner - Freeform, because why not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 06:03:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2640812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: The Gladers aren't the only civilization WICKED has been hiding. And the Grievers aren't the only threat. They have one mission: survive until tomorrow.</p><p>The 100 meet the Gladers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Maze 100

In the midst of everything, Thomas can hear soft pattering of footsteps outside. The rain was coming down hard, but not hard enough to hide the urgent calls from Newt, and the running. They were going to the forest, Thomas knew, and this time, not for fertilizer.

“Should we wake the shank up?” That was Minho, scratching his head and standing outside of Thomas's tent.

“Your decision, boss,” Newt said to Alby, who only grunted in response. “Whatever, it's not like he ain't gonna find out soon enough. Hurry up, we're bloody late, and Frypan said that they're waking up,”

Newt was right, Thomas was definitely going to find out what, or who, was causing all this distress. He slipped on his running shoes and waited a few seconds before chasing after the three Gladers, it was Minho who had taught him that neat trick. He strained to hear the voices, following their footsteps smeared by the rain and mud, until he was led to a small shack in the middle of the forest. 

Just like Thomas thought he would be, Minho was standing protectively against the door and raising an eyebrow at him. “Took you long enough, shuck-face, now get in.”

He was pulled into the cramped room, facing five kids sitting against the wall, all tied up and bleeding. Thomas’s eyes landed on the girl with blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, she was waking up faster than the others, and realized she was in danger. Her dark blue eyes opened wide with confusion. “There are . . . other people here?” Relief washed over her, and then she strained again, realizing they were her captors. “Let us go.”

Alby stopped Thomas from walking over and untying her. The shank always fell for the pretty girls, Alby rolled his eyes. “Not yet, kid,”

The girl tilted her chin up at him, then looked at Thomas. “Oh, so that’s how it is.” 

The Gladers were even with the girl and her group. They were all knocked out unconscious anyways. “Just remember who you’re dealing with next time,”

Minho barked out a laugh, and Newt raised an eyebrow. “Next time. I don’t know if you realized this, but you’re tied up, Princess, and there’s no bloody way out of it,” he crossed his arms, muscles bulging underneath his shirt, “so I suppose you start talking,”

Newt wasn’t a violent person, not like Minho, and Clarke could see it in his eyes. “You won’t hurt me, I’m a girl.”

Minho narrowed his eyes, “I couldn’t tell,”

“I won’t hurt you,” Newt stepped back and pointed at Minho, “but he’s a buggin’ psychopath with a knife. So I highly advise you to stop the crap and tell us your name.”

She nodded, shrugging. “Clarke.”

That was all Thomas could hear, because she had stood up, holding a sharp dagger in her hand and a smile on her face. The rest of her people stood up too, “Next time, check your prisoners for any weapons.” She yelled over the roaring rain, thanks to the tall boy that had opened the door and rushed out with the rest of them, while Clarke stayed back and smiled smugly, looking at the shocked boys who seemed to be glued to their spot. “Maybe we can talk like civilized people next time,” her blue eyes flickered from Thomas, lingering, and then to Minho. She threw the dagger, missing him by a hair and nicking his ribs. “You may be a psychopath with a knife, but I’m a murderess with plenty of daggers to spare,” and then she left, slamming the doors shut behind her.

Thomas smiled, looking at his friends who were now wet and scowling. He spoke up, “Hey, with them, we might have a chance of escaping,”

“Why? Because they can throw a buggin’ knife at Minho?” Newt asked, his dark eyebrows raised and a frown already forming on his usually happy face. “Because I don’t know about you, but we’ve lost plenty of men taking chances. I’m done with risks,” his dark eyes focused on the doors, and Thomas feared for his safety for a second, “we find them. And we _demand_ answers.”

“What are you stupid?” Bellamy asked, yelling at her, tugging at his dark brown hair. “Why didn’t you come back with us, what took you so long?” His dark eyes flashed, and Clarke patiently watched him pace around. It was like this every time, she would do something wrong or imperfectly, and he would blow on her. Bellamy Blake was like a volcano, always surprising, and sometimes deathly. “And that kid, I saw you look at him,” he said, stopping and whirling around, “what? You like him now? He’s one of the kids who captured us, Clarke! Why can’t you get that through your thick skull?” He asked, stepping forward and closing the gap between them. 

She was breathing calmly, trying not to reach out and touch the scar just above his top lip. His dark eyes looked at her, half with worry, and half with anger. “I just happened to look at him, okay?” Clarke sighed, clenching her fists. “He’s the leader, I can tell.” 

“No,” Bellamy shook his head, “he threatened you with the knife.” 

Clarke wasn’t sure if he was talking about Minho, Newt, or Thomas. Yes, she had been awake to hear all of their questions, and no she didn’t feel bad for eavesdropping. “They’re boys. They’re only a few years younger than you. I’m only a few years younger than you, why can’t you understand that?” 

Their camp was a few miles into the forest, and she realized now why the boys hadn’t found them earlier. The forests were empty and haunted, thick with trees, and nearly impossible to get by. Where the drop ship was, was the only clearing in a five-mile radius, other than the Glade. 

“Yeah, but you’re different,” his eyes softened, and her jaws clenched in the way it did when she was angry or upset. Her cheeks were pink, and Clarke was slowly losing it with Bellamy.

“Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I can’t handle myself, Bellamy,” she groaned. 

Bellamy peeked outside his tent flap. “I never said you couldn’t handle yourself,” his hands brushed against her wrist, causing another flare of red on her cheeks, “I was only implying that if you got hurt, the whole camp would fall apart.” 

Octavia walked in with Monty and Jasper. Her eyes were wide, “They found us.” She said, and then a horn was blown into the air. A sudden realization struck Clarke very painfully as Bellamy stood protectively in front of her as they walked outside: It’s a war signal. The Gladers were waging war against the 100.

**Author's Note:**

> I love The Maze Runner. I love The 100. So why the hell not?


End file.
